


Warm-Up Weather

by hollybennett123



Category: Actor RPF, Good Omens (TV) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, Jumpers, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 05:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollybennett123/pseuds/hollybennett123
Summary: “Came to bring you this,” Michael grins, handing David a large, exceptionally warm-looking navy jumper. “In case you needed it. And to see if your room’s more bearable than mine, I got the bloody corner one with two windows. Freezing my arse off in there.”“Thanks,” David says, yawning, pulling the jumper on over his head and sending his hair every which way. It’s incredibly soft, oversized and a bit long in the sleeves. He tries not to think too much about the way it smells faintly of Michael.





	Warm-Up Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Many people encouraged me to write this at a dizzying speed and to you I say: this is all your fault. Look what you've done.

It’s just gone midnight when David finally gives up on trying to get the radiator in his hotel room to come on and picks up the phone to call reception instead.

They’re very apologetic about it, but apparently the heating and hot water’s off for the entire hotel. He’s given the option of moving to an alternative on the other side of town and decides against it; pain in the arse, packing this time of night, and the morning traffic will be hell besides for getting back across.

He considers sending a text to Michael to ask if he’s staying as well. Decides not to, in case he wakes him. Imagines he’ll probably stay put too.

He feels knackered and yet far from able to sleep when he gets back into bed, the sheets chilly again now he’s abandoned them for a bit. Tugs the duvet up over himself and lets his mind wander aimlessly.

There’s a knock on the door an hour or so later, and David begrudgingly extracts himself from the bedcovers to answer it. Decides whoever’s there is just going to have to deal with him in his t-shirt and boxers, too much like the middle of the night to bother finding his clothes.

He sees Michael’s wild curls through the peephole in the door and opens it to find him barefoot in his boxers and a wool-knit jumper, looking far too awake for someone who should have been asleep hours ago.

“Came to bring you this,” Michael grins, handing David a large, exceptionally warm-looking navy jumper. “In case you needed it. And to see if your room’s more bearable than mine, I got the bloody corner one with two windows. Freezing my arse off in there.”

“Thanks,” David says, yawning, pulling the jumper on over his head and sending his hair every which way. It’s incredibly soft, oversized and a bit long in the sleeves. He tries not to think too much about the way it smells faintly of Michael. “Not too bad in here I suppose,” though his feet are like ice now for having gotten out of bed. “Bed’s massive, if you want to kip in here instead.”

Michael accepts the offer readily, letting David take up his preferred side again before climbing beneath the covers on the other. They stay up for a while, idly chatting in the almost-dark. Not quite touching but close to it, lying face to face and almost entirely enveloped by the cosy cocoon of the duvet.

David shifts against the mattress to make himself more comfortable, his fingers accidentally brushing against Michael's arm.

“Jesus, your hand’s freezing,” Michael says, chuckling softly. Hesitates. “Here.”

He takes David's hand in his own, stroking at it to warm his fingers. Carefully tucks David’s hand beneath the hem of his jumper where it’s nice and warm, settling on the soft dip of Michael’s waist.

David swallows, his thumb stroking over Michael’s hip as if on reflex before he realises what he’s doing and stops. Michael doesn’t say anything about it, thank God; just keeps watching him, cheek pressed to the pillow, half-smiling.

“Feels like a sleepover or some shite,” David says, laughing to break the silence. “Like we should be telling each other ghost stories or nattering on about who we fancy.”

Michael laughs along with him, his expression warm, and then, as they both trail off, it’s suddenly very quiet.

“Truth or dare?” Michael says a beat later, very much amused.

“Fuck off,” David says mildly, unable to stop himself from smiling despite how blatantly ridiculous it is that Michael’s even suggested it. “Don’t be daft. What are you, twelve?”

“Inches? Yes.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“I’m _serious_,” Michael says, looking anything but. “Well, about truth or dare, anyway.” David’s rarely seen him genuinely serious, come to think of it; always cheerful, smiling. Hard to read past that, sometimes, to know what else is going on beneath the surface. “Truth or dare, David. Only two options, take your pick.”

Michael’s body feels very, very warm where David’s palm still rests against bare skin, hidden out of sight beneath Michael’s jumper and the thick duvet. David doesn’t move his hand.

“Truth,” David sighs. It’s the easy option. At the very least the option that definitely won’t involve leaving the warmth of the bed, quite comfortable now.

Michael gives him a considering look, eyes narrowing. “Have you ever kissed a bloke?”

David’s stomach twists oddly. Nerves and something else he doesn’t want to put a name to.

“Well sure, yeah, of course — ”

“Not for a part,” Michael says evenly, and — now, _now_ he actually does look properly earnest about it. “Not for a laugh or whatever. You know, like — really kissed.”

David lets out a slow breath, thinking it over. Finds himself looking away, not quite meeting Michael’s gaze, even if he’s not sure why.

“Only once or twice, if you put it like that. Long time ago.” If this is at all surprising to Michael, it’s difficult to tell. “Truth or dare, then,” David says. “Your turn.”

“Truth,” Michael echoes, and the half-smile is back. It feels like it’s twisted back around onto David, like he’s being dared in return the moment Michael says it.

“Same, then,” David says, voice thick in his throat. “Have you ever? Kissed a bloke like that?”

“Sure, loads,” Michael says, grinning at him. “Too many to count. Bit boring, stealing my question, isn’t it? Where’s your imagination? Truth or dare.”

The silence that comes after must last only seconds, but to David it feels like it stretches on indefinitely.

“Dare,” David says at last, butterflies in his stomach. Jesus, he has no idea what he’s doing.

“I dare you to kiss me,” Michael says softly, looking David in the eye and not looking away. “Right now."

David can hardly breathe, suddenly too hot for all he’d been freezing earlier. He can't very well say no, though. Not when it's a _dare_. Not when Michael's looking at him with heat in his gaze, openly wanting.

Some awful part of him wonders if Michael’s truly being serious in this. Doesn't think he could possibly be teasing him, though, looking at him like that. He tightens his grip a bit on Michael’s waist, presses in closer. He needn't have worried: Michael meets him halfway, makes a soft, satisfied sound when their lips meet. David lifts his hand to Michael's cheek, holding him carefully.

Michael groans, tugging David closer and twisting on the mattress, pulling David half on top of him beneath the bedcovers. Their legs fall together in a tangle that takes a moment to right itself and then David’s fitting himself breathlessly between Michael’s parted thighs on instinct, not even realising it until after the fact. Michael’s hand strokes up under his jumper over his stomach, making David’s cock twitch and thicken in anticipation where he’s half hard already.

“Fuck,” Michael murmurs breathlessly, tucking his fingers beneath the waistband of David’s boxers. Hauls him closer, fingernails pricking at David’s skin, and rolls his hips up to meet him.

“Is this — ” Michael begins, but David cuts him off, kissing him again urgently, nodding and murmuring in agreement. He doesn't want to think about it in case it all comes crashing to a halt. In case he talks himself out of whatever it is they’re doing or, worse still, Michael changes his mind for the both of them.

It’s Michael who breaks the kiss first, instead nosing at David’s jaw, mouthing at the column of his neck. His fingertips card through the fine hairs at the nape of David’s neck and he shivers despite himself.

“You like that?” Michael says, apparently delighted to have made the discovery.

He takes a proper hold on David’s hair, gives it a firm tug. David gasps, thrusting against Michael in a stuttering rhythm.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Michael breathes.

He shoves the duvet down a bit, rucks up David's jumper — Michael's jumper, in reality, and the thought of it makes David dizzy all over again — to get his hands on his waist properly.

“You ever fucked a bloke before?” Michael asks quietly, a gleam in his eye that's almost like a challenge. He lets his thighs fall apart so brazenly, entirely casual about it, that David has to bite back a groan.

David can feel himself flushing hot, grateful for the barely-there lighting in the room.

“No,” he says, and fuck, David’s never particularly wanted to before but now he needs it so much he can’t think about anything else.

He feels a knot of dread in his stomach; as if Michael’s going to want it now he’s admitted to it, as if he needs some fumbling idiot with no idea what he’s doing clumsily rutting between his thighs. He deserves better than that, has no doubt had countless shags far better than anything David could possibly provide —

“I’m a bit out of practice anyway,” Michael grins, entirely unbothered. “If you want to, that is.” Like it's just that easy, like they’re actually going to _do_ this. “Be a love and look in the bedside drawer, should be some condoms in there.”

And David had always wondered, before, who the hell is using the condoms and lube packets the swanky hotels slip alongside the rest of the more mundane toiletries, but now he knows and he's never been more grateful for it.

David is reluctant to pull away from him — feels like it's breaking the moment somehow, like Michael might suddenly come to his senses and change his mind — but he does so anyway, and sure enough there's a pack inside his bedside drawer there for the taking.

“Oh good, they did give you some too,” Michael says with a wink. “Was worried maybe they'd just left some for me, knowing what I'm like.”

For a moment David stays there on his knees, still holding the condoms and lube, a bit overwhelmed.

“Come here,” Michael says softly, pushing himself up on his hands. Slips a warm hand around the back of David's neck and kisses him, slow and sure. “Take these off?” he asks, trailing his fingers over the edge of David’s boxers and skimming down over the swell of his erection, making him groan. “We can keep the jumpers on, I reckon. Bloody freezing, like, in here.”

It is, in a distant sort of way. David's burning hot all over, pulse racing. Michael grins at him and David can’t help but smile in return.

“M’not really sure what I'm doing,” he admits, handing the condoms and lube to Michael and awkwardly peeling off his boxers under Michael’s appreciative gaze. “Maybe you’d better — you know.”

“Whatever gets your cock in me quicker,” Michael says, a cheeky edge to his tone.

David has to get a hand on himself; closes his eyes for a moment and pulls his fist along the length of his cock with a whimper, no longer entirely certain he's going to survive this.

“Christ, Michael,” he mutters. Michael looks all too pleased with himself.

“D’you want to watch me get myself ready for you?” Michael says, shimmying out of his own boxers. He takes a packet of lube and rips it open with his teeth, wrinkling his nose when he inevitably ends up tasting it. “S’fine if you do, I quite like being watched, see.”

“Y- yeah?” David says. “That's — let's do that.”

Michael settles back against the pillows with a content little wriggle, David still kneeling between his thighs. David rests one hand on Michael’s knee for lack of anything else to be doing with it; strokes slowly back and forth with his thumb just to feel that bit of contact between them. Wraps the fingers of his other hand around the hem of his own jumper, fingernails worrying at the soft fabric.

Michael thoroughly coats three fingers with lube, shiny little speckles of it on his belly where it drips off his hand. Reaching between his legs, he strokes his wet middle finger teasingly over his hole then dips inside with ease. Promptly adds a second and presses both deeper with a sigh, eyes fluttering closed.

“Fuck,” David murmurs.

His brain stutters to a halt all over again as he realises they’re actually going to do this and it’s really, genuinely happening. He can’t tear his eyes away; can’t imagine how he can possibly fit his cock inside him, Michael's body clinging tightly to his lube-shining fingers.

“Feels really fucking good,” Michael says, sounding almost drunk on it. Shoves his fingers in roughly, pressing deep inside himself.

His cock jerks, precome drooling from the tip in a sticky dribble down to his jumper where it catches on the wool. David’s mouth immediately starts watering. It’s not something he’s ever wanted before, not really; now it's right in front of him, the sharp scent of sex in the air, he’s all too eager.

“Can I suck you?” David asks, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I haven't done it before. Might not be much good at it, but — ” 

He trails off, a bit uncertain, but Michael moans like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard. “Be my guest,” he says, the thrust of his fingers inside himself catching David’s attention again.

David’s glad for the fact he’s technically still half-dressed; would otherwise feel terribly exposed as he positions himself on his hands and knees and runs one hand experimentally up the length of Michael’s cock. It curves away from him slightly, and he guides it into a more upright position to make it easier for himself.

“You look really fucking good like that,” Michael says. He’s still idly playing with himself with two fingers, though it seems more of an afterthought now; his other hand strokes carefully over David's jaw and tangles very gently in his hair.

David wants to make it really, really good for him. Fucking him is a complete unknown, and so is this in a way, but he thinks this at least is easier. Get his mouth on him, focus on the head — can’t be too difficult, really, he hopes.

He starts with a bold swipe over the slit, precome clinging to his tongue. He presses his lips together as he draws back a fraction; swallows it down. The primal tang of it combined with Michael's soft groan of approval gives him the confidence to take the head of Michael's cock fully into his mouth, sucking gently and letting it rub over his tongue.

“Jesus,” Michael says, laughing softly. “You're a fucking natural at that, you are.”

The praise warms David through, the gentle tease of Michael’s fingers over his scalp only adding to the pleasurable sensation. He gives an answering hum of gratitude that clearly does very good things for Michael, judging by the way he rolls his hips with a stunned-sounding gasp.

David takes him that bit deeper, a bit sloppy about it as he focuses on keeping his teeth out of the way as much as anything else — spit wetting his chin, dripping down the length of Michael’s cock — but Michael doesn't appear to mind in the slightest, murmuring more encouragement as he gets a third finger inside himself.

“Mm, get up here,” Michael says at last, withdrawing his fingers and wiping the remaining lube off on his jumper. “Get that on,” he says handing David a condom, “and get some of that on your cock too,” tossing him another packet of lube alongside it with an easy smile. “I’m absolutely dying for it, in case you couldn't tell.”

Before David has chance to follow through on Michael’s instructions, Michael draws him briefly into a kiss, sucking the taste of himself from David's bottom lip.

David’s hands are embarrassingly unsteady as he rolls the condom onto himself, trying to keep his breathing even despite the way his heart’s racing.

Michael takes the lube from him with a soft smile, pouring a generous dollop of it into his own palm, and gives David’s cock a few firm strokes over the condom to get him good and slick.

“There we are,” Michael says kindly, his eyes creasing attractively at the corners. If he sees how nervous David is — and despite the low lighting, he surely must do — he’s nice enough not to mention it outright.

“How d’you want it?” David asks him, aiming for nonchalant and no doubt sounding far from it.

“Like this, I reckon, to start,” Michael says, lying back and guiding David on top of him, his bent knees resting gently against David’s hips. “If that's alright?”

David feels completely delirious with how badly he wants it, every part of him crying out with the urge to sink inside him and fuck him into the mattress. He positions his cock with a hand that wants so badly to tremble, taking a deep breath and trying his best to keep it together.

Pressing slowly inside him makes David feel as if the breath’s been punched out of him; he’s so _hot_ inside, tight and wet and perfect around his cock. He pauses halfway in, watching Michael carefully. It’s painfully intimate like this, face to face and their breathing ragged in the quiet of the room.

“Mm, fucking love your cock,” Michael says, fisting his hand in David’s hair and pulling him into a lazy kiss that he breaks with a smile. “Stay there a second, let me get used to you. It’s been a while, like I said, not had more than my fingers in a fair bit.”

David’s so hard he can feel his cock throb in time with his pulse, holding himself still an exercise in restraint. He can feel sweat pricking down his spine beneath his jumper despite the chill in the room, his whole body aflame.

“S’this okay?” David asks, worried it might not be. That he’s doing it wrong despite all evidence to the contrary. “I'm not hurting you?”

“You’re perfect,” Michael says, and pleasure licks down David's spine at the way he says it. “C’mon, now, start slow and it’ll be fine. Fuck, you've no idea how many times I’ve gotten myself off imagining this.”

“Jesus _Christ_,” David mutters, drawing back a bit before pushing inside again. “Really?”

“Course,” Michael says, like it’s not making David lose his mind entirely; like it’s completely bloody obvious that he’s wanked himself off on countless occasions to the idea of David giving him a good seeing to, a totally normal day in the life of Michael fucking Sheen.

David fucks him in slow, shallow pulses, guided by the sounds Michael makes and the greedy press of his fingers digging into David’s biceps. Michael’s still wearing his stupid, soft, horribly fucking attractive jumper just as David is, but Michael’s is working its way further up over his hips as David’s thrusts rock him against the bed. The sight of the bare curve of his belly makes David’s hips stutter, fucking deeper as Michael welcomes it with a delighted breath of laughter, sliding his legs around David’s waist and encouraging him to pick up the pace with the press of his heels.

“You look really fucking good,” David says, near-panting now.

“Do I?” Michael says, amused, running his thumb over David's cheek. “Maybe you’d better put your back into it, then. Show me how much you really want to fuck me, sweetheart.”

_Sweetheart_. Fuck, it's the first time David can remember him using any sort of endearment with him and it’s ridiculous how eagerly his body responds both to the word itself and to the challenge that came before it. He’s doing as Michael asked before he even has chance to think about it properly, shoving into him more roughly than before as Michael claws at his back, laughing under his breath at having goaded David so easily.

“You're a fucking tease,” David mutters, ducking his head to bite gently at Michael’s neck and getting a shocked gasp in response.

Michael smirks, tugging at the neck of David’s jumper where it’s slipping down to expose his shoulder. Hauls David even closer to himself as he licks over his collarbone, humming in satisfaction at the desperate churn of David's hips.

“Knew you'd be fucking good at this,” Michael says, bringing their mouths together for a moment, more a brief brush of lips and panting the same shared breaths than a proper kiss. “Knew you’d — oh, _fuck_,” Michael cries out, shuddering as David hooks one hand beneath Michael’s knee, drags his legs further apart to get at him deeper than before, and gives him a few hard, bed-shaking thrusts that actually shut him up for once.

Michael goes all _pliant_ after that; still smiling, still encouraging him with his hands, but his legs fall apart and he all but melts into the bed, swearing under his breath over and over as David fucks him. He gets a hand between them to pull at his own cock and David feels like he should probably be doing that; it’s only polite, after all, though in this position not the easiest thing to manage and he can't quite figure out how to do so through the haze of arousal.

“Would you be up for fucking me on all fours?” Michael says, like that’s a proposition David could possibly turn down. “S’easier for me to come that way, is all.”

“God, yes,” David says reverently, pulling out as carefully as he can manage and letting Michael turn over.

Sinking back inside him now he’s fucked open and loose is mind-bendingly good, even moreso when combined with the fact that David now has free rein to run his hands over Michael’s hips and the soft curve of his arse. The sounds Michael makes when fucked in this position make David’s mouth dry and his balls tighten, a never-ending stream of gasps and moans like he’s past the point of coherence.

David fucks him in long strokes, leaning over Michael and reaching a hand beneath him to work clumsily over his cock where it hangs hard and heavy between his thighs.

“This okay?” David asks, desperate to do right by him.

“Don't stop,” Michael gasps, his voice sex-roughened and gorgeous sounding. “Don't stop, don’t stop, don’t stop — ” and comes shuddering with a moan. His cock flexes in David's grip, spurting onto the bedcovers in three, four, five pulses before he gives a weaker-sounding groan of exhausted satisfaction, slumping forward a bit. “Fuck,” he says, “are you going to come in me? Come on, sweetheart, that’s it.”

It takes a ridiculously short amount of time between Michael asking for it and David doing so, pressing deep and emptying himself into the condom with a bitten-back whimper as his orgasm slams into him all at once. It’s so pleasurable it makes his knees weak, gripping at Michael’s waist for support.

“Fuck me,” Michael exclaims, breathless and laughing as David pulls out with a wince.

“Think I just did,” David says dazedly, amused and a bit giddy and knowing full well things are probably going to be very awkward very soon, yet not really managing to care about it too much in his current state.

Michael flops over onto his back, grinning at David as he moves to dispose of the condom. A shower would be great right now, David thinks, but there’s no hot water of course. Maybe he’ll boil the kettle later, so they can at least wipe themselves down with a hot flannel, freshen up a bit. In a minute. When he regains proper use of his legs.

“Get over here,” Michael says, his expression one of someone immensely satiated and sleepy. “You're proper lovely, you are.” He tips David's chin up with his fingers and kisses him with languid satisfaction. “Don't start fretting,” he adds gently, “because I can see you’re about to. Oh, and avoid the wet patch, David, sweetheart. Come closer, over here, that’s it.”

David does so; finds it’s surprisingly easy to do whatever Michael asks of him. Something about the way he says things means David can’t help but put trust in him, content to follow wherever he leads. He presses closer, letting Michael pull the duvet up over the both of them, still warm in their jumpers and warmer still for being so close.

“Sleep for a bit, yeah?” Michael says, already halfway to drifting off.

“Yeah,” David says, his leg pressed warmly to Michael’s. “Yeah, think I will,” and finds it far easier than anticipated to do so.

**Author's Note:**

> Sneeb's latest Twitter activities basically implied that he wants more Bottom!Michael content in the world, reading between the lines, so it's actually really great and cool of me that I've done this.


End file.
